


My Ruin (I Love You)

by girlswholikegirlsruletheworld



Category: The Glass Scientists (Webcomic)
Genre: Blood, Blow Jobs, Desperation, Fluff, Fluffy Smut, Impact Play, Kinky, Light BDSM, Love Confessions, M/M, Please spare my soul, Public Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Smut and Angst, Smut and Fluff, Violent Sex, fluffy sex, honestly this is 5000 words of filth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:14:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26193988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlswholikegirlsruletheworld/pseuds/girlswholikegirlsruletheworld
Summary: Edward Hyde really likes having sex. So when over a month of celibacy passes for him, he's desperate to have his way, and to get shagged good and hard and dirty in the middle of the Society.
Relationships: Edward Hyde/Dr. Henry Jekyll
Comments: 10
Kudos: 83





	My Ruin (I Love You)

**Author's Note:**

> i am ashamed. that is all.

Edward Hyde really liked having sex. Loved it, actually. Was close to addicted to it, quite honestly. That was just fact, and it was a fact he refused to be ashamed of. Whether his partner was a man or a woman or all in between, and no matter how many people might be involved in the act, he enjoyed it. He enjoyed how powerful it felt to hold another's pleasure in his hands, or in his mouth. He enjoyed the pure indulgence of it all, to bring pleasure to another while taking his own in turn. And above all, he enjoyed just how alive it made him feel, how thrilled and invincible, especially when enjoyed with someone who truly cared for him, and wanted him, and loved him.

And though he'd stopped ending his debaucherous, depraved nights on the town with a back alley shag or a messy bar orgy, that didn't mean he was any less indulged in one of his favourite pastimes. It was common knowledge in the Society that he had found a regular, committed sexual partner in his dear creator and alter ego, who blessedly was as depraved and desperate as he was. Hhe tried to hide it behind tonnes and tonnes of utterly fragile Victorian repression, but it was like leaving a glass flask on the edge of a cliff. Let Hyde but undo the first three buttons of his shirt and recline lazily on their bed or on the desk in his partner's office, and perhaps purr a few pretty words and groan a couple of expletives as he pleasured himself, and Jekyll's perfect, pretty, unshakable façade _shattered_.

So, yes, Hyde still got fucked senseless and miraculously speeches, and quite well indeed, thank you for asking. For Jekyll, whenever free of his inhibitions and reservations, almost seemed possessed by the Devil. It was overwhelming even for Hyde to see and hear and _feel_ his dear gentle and tender lover suddenly turn aggressive and so perversely berserk, driving into Hyde with near inhuman speed and strength and growling lustful, passionate, and hotly sinful words into his ears. And it was common for Hyde to pass out after a good night in the sheets, covered in scratches and bruises and occasionally bleeding, and he never tried to hide those marks, however embarrassed or worried Jekyll was over him. He liked that it was obvious how often, and especially how well he was getting fucked, insignificant as that seemed.

Unfortunately, recently the universe itself seemed to have decided that Hyde didn't deserve to get fucked, because he hadn't had good, hard, and blissfully debaucherous sex in nearly a month and a half.

It was a travesty! And no, it certainly was not for lack of trying! Since their separation — which had, yes, ended in sex — Hyde liked to get fucked in the most extreme way _at least_ every week! Really, if he was still part chemical spirit of sorts, he'd be getting fucked hard and dangerous every single chance he had, but even he had to concede to human biology and his degree in medicine, and agree that if he got pounded harsh and rough every day then he was likely to break his bones. Of course, he and Jekyll still indulged most nights — and days, if Hyde could tempt the prudish doctor to take the risk — especially because Jekyll had a ton of love and fucks and cuddles to catch up on, but for those nights, they gave bare, rough, penetrative sex a rest.

But as of recent weeks, Hyde was getting increasingly agitated at the lack of said good bare, rough, and penetrative sex. Because every bloody time he was about to get nicely and roughly fucked, _someone just had to fucking interrupt._

The first time it happened wasn't so bad. It had been an ominously quiet day, with none of the Lodgers causing potentially lethal explosions or letting poisonous chemical fumes waft through out the building, and there were blessedly no death threats or hate mail from the general populous, as they'd managed to impress the peoples of London with the recent exhibition without traumatising them too much. And so, instead of trying to get ahead with work like Jekyll wanted to do, Hyde had dropped to his knees in the middle of their office and taken Jekyll's leaking cock into his eagerly salivating mouth. Jekyll had vehemently protested at first, but eventually he'd given into his impulses and enjoyed the experience, and just as Hyde was desperately palming his own arousal and very excitedly awaiting the moment Jekyll would reach the peak of his pleasure, brought on by Edward Hyde and Edward Hyde alone. . .

. . . motherfucking Ito, of all people, walked in.

Now, let it be known that there is no quicker way to kill Jekyll's arousal than his frankly terrifying alchemy student. "Miss Ito!" he'd exclaimed, yanking himself away from Hyde and taking his sweet and warm weight away from his pouting partner. He's tried to cover himself up, and Hyde had tried to get Ito out of the room, but she'd hardly been phased, only taking a seat to discuss the renovations being made to their shared laboratory and taking absolutely _ages_. Suffice to say that Hyde had not gotten much action that day, but he'd just sat back down and pouted instead of burning down the Society. Jekyll would be proud of his restraint.

The next time it happened, Hyde had been much less forgiving. He and Jekyll were already in bed by then, and Jekyll was growling into his ears and biting down on his throat and ears and collarbone and spreading Hyde open on his fingers. They were naked, quite pleasurably so, and Hyde had been howling and baying like a wolf at the moon when an actual wolf started howling and smashed into their bedroom window. It had not been Jasper, unfortunately, because if it was Jasper all Hyde would have had to do was invite him to a threesome and the shy farmboy would have fucked off at the speed of light. No, it was a rogue werewolf, and quite dangerous, too, if the decidedly fresh blood on its teeth and claws was any indication, and Jekyll and Hyde had had to fuse in order to escape it. However, while running across the rooftops away from a very hungry wolf, Hyde had fallen into an alley and dislocated their elbow, which meant neither of them were allowed to move too much until it was set back.

Henry had been lucky, because all he had to do was not exist while Hyde was having his elbow set, but Hyde had ended up howling in a way decidedly less pleasurable than he'd wanted that night, and he'd been pissy all the next day and week, spitting curses at wolves and werewolves in general. Thankfully never around Jasper, but still.

And it kept bloody happening! If it wasn’t one of the Lodgers that interrupted them, it was motherfucking Lanyon or Rachel or another weird beast of mad science! And they always didn't have enough time or the right place or the right stuff, because Jekyll actually had a sense of preservation and refused to have sex if they didn't have protection or lube, much to Hyde's irritation and utter frustration. And it. Had. Been. Six. Fucking. Weeks.

Six fucking weeks since Hyde had had a good, long, indulgent fuck. Six fucking weeks since Hyde had been pounded nice and hard into oblivion and unconsciousness. Six fucking weeks since he'd had so much as swallowed Jekyll's cock and had his throat and voice positively _wrecked._ Six motherfucking weeks since he'd been utterly decimated and overwhelmed by sexual bliss and desperation and pleasure.

Even worse was that Jekyll had bloody noticed his frustration, and yet seemed fucking immune to it! He'd even suggested, when Hyde was bitching about his frustration over a glass of wine, that Hyde hit a pub and find someone to seduce. What the fuck! It wasn't fair! Surely, Jekyll wanted him just as much, right? Surely, Jekyll was missing him, too; missing the feeling of their smooth and sweaty skin gliding over one another, the feeling of his desperate and whiny kisses and the feeling of _having_ him. Of being so open to him.

Because it wasn't _just_ the pleasure of their fucking that mattered so much to him. It was the fact that it was _Jekyll_ , the man who knew him inside and out and still wanted him. The man who'd suffered at his hands so much, and yet could look at him with adoration and care, and not disgust and disdain or even black, dreadful indifference. And Hyde did miss him, so much, missed being so open and true and _alive_ with him; and he missed being able to show Jekyll that he was utterly, dreadfully, irrevocably in _love_ with him without having to say a single word.

Anyway, disgustingly romantic feelings aside, Hyde was both sexually frustrated and annoyingly insecure, and that was just absolutely fucking unacceptable! And Jekyll had the bloody _nerve_ to strut around the Society in his beautiful suit and his sinfully tight pants and obscenely sexy hair as if he didn't fucking _know_ what he was doing to Hyde! Well, Hyde didn't give a damn anymore! He was going to get fucked nice and hard and _bloody_ , dammit, and not even the fucking Lord of the Universe was going to stop him!

  * ••••••••



Jekyll was walking through the Society's entrance hall and back to his office when he was grabbed by his wild little alter ego and pulled in for a very rough and hard kiss.

He gasped at the sudden contact, but even so, he did not resist, instead taking Hyde into his arms as deep and warm as he possibly could. The man was desperate, it seemed, biting and licking into Jekyll's mouth and grabbing onto every bit of Jekyll's body he could reach, and Jekyll could not lie — he could not resist Hyde. He'd hardly been able to when they were together, still, and the temptation to touch and explore and _take_ Hyde had only grown ever stronger since he could _see_ Hyde and touch him and _feel_ him. So he did not resist, and bit back at Hyde equally desperately and equally fervently, and though he could barely take a breath between their rough kisses, he _adored_ them.

" _Hyde_ ," he gasped when Hyde gave him a small reprieve, his breath coming far too fast to be dignified or gentlemanly. He couldn't take his hands off of Hyde even if he tried. "What — what brought this on, exactly? Not quite complaining, but—" he couldn't finish the rest of his sentence, because Hyde had grabbed him again, kissing him deep and hard and desperate.

"I need you," Hyde whined, pushing up against Jekyll like some common whore in a brothel, and Jekyll groaned as he took another kiss from Hyde's eager and begging mouth. He felt filthy and overwhelmed and so, so very undignified, but he found that he didn't give a _damn_. With Hyde, he never gave a single fuck about what the world thought. And neither did Hyde, judging by his desperate muttering and begging in betwen"I _need_ you, Henry, please, please, _please_ I miss you so much, I want you, I need you, _please!_ "

Jekyll felt like all his breaths were being stolen from him, and he forced himself to end the kiss. "Quite — quite desperate, aren't you, Edward?" he gasped, his forehead pressed against his lover's, and his hands holding tight to Hyde's shoulders so they wouldn’t travel too far. Against Hyde, he was always defenseless, always nothing more than a man caught in the throes of disgraceful and violent lust and want.

"Quite, yes," Hyde growled, low and dangerous, and Jekyll groaned as Hyde started to rut against his thighs and bite at his neck with his near vampiric teeth. They would leave marks, marks that would make him look thoroughly debauched and depraved and utterly indecorous, but he didn't care. He had to have Hyde. He'd been denied far too long. And judging by the hungry fire blazing in Hyde's eyes, he felt the same way. "Take me, Henry," he growled, his arms around Jekyll's neck and his breath hot, "fuck me. Fuck me into oblivion, Henry, _please_ , it's been too fucking _long_ —"

Jekyll stifled yet another groan against Hyde's hair. Not here. Not in the middle of the Society, and not in the middle of the day. Not in plain view of everyone. But still, as Hyde returned to biting his lips and tongue and licking into his throat as deep as he could, he took a handful of Hyde's hair and _yanked_. He couldn't refuse. He never could. He could deny himself, but he could never bear to deny Hyde, because he was all too beautiful when sated, too breathtaking when bruised and bloody and on the verge of violent orgasm. "Our — our room," he hissed, licking over the wounds that he'd bitten into Hyde's lips, " _now_ , Edward. Now."

Hyde pulled away from him. His small chest, little more than bones and skin and the slightest touch of muscle, rose and dipped in ragged motions, and his beautiful green eyes were wide and almost deranged. "No," he hissed, and Jekyll stared. "You know what's going to happen. Someone or something is going to interrupt us and we'll both be sulky and frustrated and needy all over again. It's not fucking worth it."

"P—pardon?" Jekyll asked between his own ragged breaths. "You'd — you'd arouse me just to deny us both?"

" _No_ ," answered Hyde, in so low and devilish a growl that a stab of fear went down Jekyll's spine. "I am going to show the fucking world that I don't give a fuck if it tries to get between us."

"What — what do you mean?" asked Jekyll, as Hyde began to drag him to the centre of the entrance hall. They'd replaced the profoundly dangerous galvanist equipment and flaming swords and skeletons with much more tasteful couches and carpets, and though the Lodgers had bitched for weeks after that one, one day Hyde was found catnapping on the couches, and since then it had become a rather favoured spot in the Society, if only because it was a place to sleep that wasn't in imminent danger of explosions.

They left the leviathan skeleton hanging from the roof, though, and Jekyll was still fairly sure that the thing wasn’t really dead.

"I mean," growled Hyde, as he pulled Jekyll as close as humanly possible and began to roughly and greedily yank the buttons of his shirt and coat open, seemingly uncaring that anyone could and would see them, "that you're going to fuck me _right fucking here_ , because if I don't get your dick in me in the next few minutes I'm going to ride the damn Leviathan's fucking tail."

Jekyll was torn. There were many ways he could respond to the man rutting up against him and very unsexily wiggling his way out of his button shirt. He could take the mask of a gentleman yet again, and refuse Hyde his carnal desires, at least until they were behind closed doors and in their own world of lust. Certainly it would be the choice more in keeping with the good and respected Dr. Jekyll. Or. . . well, he had never been _only_ Dr. Jekyll. And there was a far more enjoyable, and more devilish, and more dangerous option.

"You little harlot," he growled, making sure to let his voice drop to a pitch that Hyde's voice never could, and he relished in the convulsing shiver that Hyde made in response. He knew he made Hyde weak. And what a heady and thrilling feeling that was, indeed, to reduce such a beast to nothing more than the most primitive sort of man, driven by lust and want and neither reason nor heart. He ran his hands through Hyde's collar and hair, and took great pleasure in the way Hyde chased his touch, seemingly subconsciously. "You sick, little _freak_. Are you so desperate for me, my little _slut_?"

He took a handful of Hyde's scraggly blond hair, and giving him a warm, twisted smile, he pulled roughly down.

Hyde gasped, and his legs bent at the knee before he lost his balance entirely and sprawled onto the carpet. But he couldn't get up, not so quickly, because Jekyll let a foot rest heavily on Hyde's chest, and all he could do was gasp for breath and lay silently where he'd fallen. "He- Henry," he choked, and his eyes shone with tears that Jekyll longed to see fall. It was a little strange seeing him so compliant, as even in his most desperate times he tended to still fight back, but Jekyll didn't mind too much.

He reached down, though never breaking his and Hyde's gaze, and swiftly undid the belt that held his trousers in place. "Undress me, my darling whore," he cooed, and let Hyde sit up. The belt, he wound around his hand, a threat in his eyes.

Hyde, near delirious and berserk with lust, could do little but nod jerkily as he sat up. But as he took Jekyll's trousers in his hands, Jekyll shook his head, and he froze. "Keep your filthy hands to yourself, whore," he snarled.

"But — but Henry—"

"You're a smart man, Hyde," Jekyll interrupted, reaching down and taking the man's chin in his fingers. He looked so wrecked, so desperate already, and they'd scarcely even started. What would he look like once they were done, the doctor wondered; once he was marked all over with Jekyll's own hidden lust and frustration and violence. "Figure it out."

Hyde whimpered at being denied. All his blood was leaving his head and heading elsewhere, and he could scarcely remember to breathe, let alone _think_. That was what he so adored about fucking around with Jekyll — knowing that he could so easily give up control and he would still be sated, still be deliriously pleasured. But he knew what Jekyll wanted. He inhaled deeply, trying to get his breathing back under control, and with his teeth he took the top hem of Jekyll's trousers and nibbled.

It was difficult. The buttons on the hem were for show, and Hyde knew that — knew that the pants were held on the inside by a pair of metal clasps, and that it took a great deal of effort to take them apart with his mouth alone. But he had a skillful tongue, and they both knew that — they both knew that Jekyll wanted Hyde to prove it.

"Look at you, so hungry, so thirsty for it," Jekyll observed, softly, and Hyde thought for a while that he sounded fond, but meeting Jekyll's eyes, he saw the deep dangers that were always present behind the man's glittering, saccharine smile. He shivered every time their eyes met, and it made him lose his grip on the cloth and clasps many times, the knock of metal on his teeth sending chills through his spine. It reminded him of the taste of blood. "I adore you like this, you know, Hyde. So quiet. So compliant. So — so _worshipful_."

Hyde pulled his teeth from the clasps once they were successfully undone, and whimpered as he pulled down Jekyll's pants with his teeth. "I worship _you_ , Henry," he admitted, and hot shame ran through him at the confession. "You are my creator. My — my one and — and only master. M- my — my — my _soulmate_."

Jekyll was silent for a few moments, and then he gave Hyde a wide, almost devilish smirk. Hyde shuddered — such a dark expression belonged on his face. Not Jekyll's. "Prove it, then, my _inferior half_ ," he growled, softly and yet dangerously, and he allowed his positively pulsing cock to smack Hyde's cheek. A seemingly involuntarily whimper escaped Hyde, and Jekyll loved it so — how much Hyde wanted him, and how blindingly obvious that was. He took great pleasure in being so needed, so wanted, and in the knowledge that someone as promiscuous and disloyal and experienced as Hyde would ever swear such loyalty to him.

Hyde nodded, frantically, and Jekyll pushed deep and quick into Hyde's eagerly waiting mouth. He was scarcely gentle about it — he drove from Hyde's lips to the back of Hyde's throat in barely a second, and though Hyde groaned around him, he could barely make a sound. Jekyll, however, had no such handicap, and he groaned wild and loud as Hyde's nose roughly smashed against his pelvis. He didn't care to be careful, and Hyde didn't care to resist — no, he swallowed and suckled and drooled around Jekyll, and though he gagged often, he didn't pull off. And Jekyll didn't try to pull him off; instead, he took Hyde's long, shaggy hair into his hands and tugged, tugged hard as he could so that Hyde would _scream_ — at least as best as he could with his alter-ego's cock deep in his throat.

" _Oh, Hyde_ —!" Jekyll groaned, close to screaming, and close to falling to his knees. His orgasm was approaching, he knew, and though he would have loved to force his seed down Hyde's throat and watch him choke as he tried to swallow it all, only to fail and have to spit it back out, he had other plans. With the hands he had wrenched in Hyde's hair, he pushed the man away quickly, and Hyde sprawled back onto the carpet. His beautiful mouth leaked with saliva and blood, and his breaths were ever more unsteady, but elsewhere something else was leaking. His pants were stained, and Jekyll grinned wildly.

"Stand, my darling slut," he commanded, and though Hyde's knees were shaking, he obeyed, only to collapse and land in Jekyll's waiting arms. "There, there, dear, are you alright?"

Hyde nodded jerkily, though it was clear he'd have a spot of trouble speaking. "I — yeah," he rasped, "I'm alright."

"Do you want to continue?" A nod, and then, whispering in Hyde's ear, "Here?"

Another nod, and Jekyll's wild grin only grew ever wider. "You really are just a common, filthy slut, aren't you?" he whispered, as if it was something only Hyde should know, and perhaps that was why it felt all the more filthy. Because everyone would know, soon. If so much as one Lodger saw them, the whole Society would know. And — and very strangely, that idea positively thrilled them both. "Getting off on being claimed, taken, _pounded_ in plain view of everyone else; on everyone knowing that despite your promiscuity, you're perfectly happy to be held down by the man you spend your entire existence torturing?"

"Yes! Jekyll, please!" Hyde groaned, twisting his hands around Jekyll's shirt collar which he had yet to take off. Hyde was half tempted to just tear it, because he could, he _easily_ could, and he'd been waiting long enough. But Jekyll must've known, because he took Hyde's hands and held them, tighter and stronger than Hyde would have expected from the good doctor. "Jekyll!" he whined, bucking into Jekyll, tears close to streaking from his eyes. "Please, please, _please_ , I _need_ you — I _want_ you, please—"

"And that's all that matters, isn't it, darling?" Jekyll growled, dark and dangerous suddenly, and Hyde shut his mouth and froze. "It's all that you ever think about. What _you_ need. What _you_ want. What will give you even the slightest bit of evil, carnal, primitive pleasure. Isn't it?"

Hyde stiffly nodded. He didn't know what was happening. Didn’t know what Jekyll was on about, but he didn't have much time to wonder, because the _second_ after he heard a deep, wicked growl in his ear, he lurched forward and banged his the back of his head into the back of a couch. He'd been pushed in the back, quite clearly, but that was all he had time to process before his clothes were being torn off and his hair was being used to force his head to crane up, forcing his eyes to meet Jekyll's furious, wrath-filled glare.

"Isn't that all that's ever mattered to you, you selfish bitch?!" Jekyll demanded, and though Hyde shuddered, he couldn't deny the stirring in his trousers.

Still, some part of him was afraid. "H- Henry, I— I—"

"You don't bother to think about what _I_ want. No, what _I_ need. You don't care at all that you could ruin me, and everything I've worked for, do you, Hyde?" Jekyll asked, much softer but not any less sharply, and Hyde doesn't know if he means it, doesn't know if he really thinks that, because it's not _true,_ and he does care about Henry. "You don't care that I spend my every hour trying to keep this damn place open. You don't care that I have to wear my brightest most confident smile even as I suffer in silence, do you? No, all you care about is a good lay, nothing more."

Hyde whimpered. "No, no — no, Henry, I do — I do care about you. I swear, I do, I really do—"

"No more lies, whore!" Jekyll thundered, and a sharp pain stings suddenly and sharply in Hyde's cheek, and blood on Jekyll's palm. Someone from around the corner gasped, and no doubt Jekyll heard that, because his lips curled into the most sadistic, sinister smirk, and he began slowly taking off his clothes. "You are my ruin. My downfall. My personal living _hell_."

Then, Jekyll wound his belt around his hand, and Hyde swallowed. He knew what he had to do. He turned, his back to Jekyll and his hair out of the way, and he shuddered as Jekyll chuckled into his ear. "Well, if I’m to be ruined, I will have you ruined, too."

And then a sharp pained scream cut through the air.

There's got to be an angry red stripe across Hyde's back where Jekyll's belt struck down between his shoulder blades. And Hyde's pretty sure that his back is bleeding, but he only writhes in pleasure and begs for more, and even as Jekyll asks him if they're okay to continue or if it hurts too much, Hyde only screams and demands, "Rain hell upon me or fuck yourself, Henry!"

It only enrages Jekyll even more, and Hyde shrieked as he's struck again and again and again, leaving him bruised and bloody and drooling at the corners of his mouth from the sight of Jekyll so unhinged, so angry, and so violent. He's almost never the violent one. Not the way Hyde is, but now, there's almost no red in Jekyll's eyes, only bright, luminous jewel-toned green, and Hyde knows — he's staring at something more primitive, more beautiful, and ever _darker_ than before. For Henry Jekyll is every bit Edward Hyde, too, only true, and pure, and _sure_.

"Bloody fucking slut!" Jekyll growled as he beat Hyde, and as Hyde writhed and hissed and groaned and begged for more, for something better, something worse, something _deeper_. "Fucking bitching beast! You are my worst!! My evil! All my pain and everything I can never be! My ruin! My loss! Go to Hell!"

Hyde groans, and he twists to stare Jekyll deep in the eye, green matching green with every bit of intensity. "I'll — I'll take you with me," he gasps, and moans when Jekyll screams and slaps him, hard, across the cut on his cheek that's still bleeding.

"Of course you will," Jekyll hissed, dropping the belt and grabbing Hyde by his hair, forcing him to lay back on the couch. "Bloody bitch. Can't ever be rid of you, can I?"

Hyde can barely breathe and barely see, and it hurts and the sudden motion nearly breaks his bones but then Jekyll's driving wet, slick fingers roughly into him, and Hyde lies back and takes it and moans, because he can do little else. And of course Jekyll's taking the time to prepare him, however roughly, because despite all his anger he _cares_ , and Hyde wishes that that wasn't so charming and that he didn't like that so much, but he does, and as Jekyll growls furious, lustful nonsense into his ears, a single tear escapes his eye.

Jekyll stops, and Hyde can feel his eyes heavily trained on him, and he tries to wipe away the tear but Jekyll's there first, kissing it away, licking it off his cheek before licking his way into Hyde's mouth. And this kiss is different, and special, and Hyde can tell, because it's soft and gentle and slow and he can _feel_ that Jekyll wants to cry, too, and out of the same reason that Hyde does. They're overwhelmed, the both of them. They don't speak of their love. Of their attraction. And they don't like to think of it, but it's there, and they both know it, and this kiss contains all those feelings and all that love they never express explicitly otherwise. Hyde could cry, and he wraps his arms around Jekyll's neck and tugs him close.

"Take me," Hyde begs, softly and gently and uncharacteristically tender. "I need you, Henry, and want you, much more than I'll ever need or want anyone in my life. You — you _are_ my life. My creator. My heart. My everything."

"And you are my soul, Edward," Jekyll whispers, and Hyde shudders at the mention of his first name. "My life. My strength. My dearest friend, my freedom, and my everything." He takes one of Hyde's legs and hoists it over his shoulder, and it's easy because Hyde is small and flexible and beautiful and willing, and he melts at the tender smile Hyde gives him. "I — I love you. You don't — you don't have to say it now, because I know — I know you can't, not yet, I but I do. I really do."

Hyde swallows. Jekyll's right, and he does love Henry but he can't say it, can't bear to be that vulnerable, and so instead of speaking he tugs Jekyll close and kisses him again. He hopes his love is obvious, even if he doesn't say it. And he thinks Jekyll knows, he thinks he's not hallucinating the tears shining in Jekyll's eyes as he slowly and tenderly presses into Hyde.

" _Aaah—!_ " Hyde exclaims, screwing his eyes shut and throwing his head back. It hurts, it still does, of course it does, because he's laying on his wounds and he's tasting blood in his mouth and he's certainly bruised all over his body, but the pleasure of being loved, being held, and being _filled_ overwhelms him. Jekyll takes his sweet time with his first thrust, obviously not wanting to hurt him too much, and Hyde whines, bucking against Jekyll with all the strength he can muster up despite the pain and rush of emotion. " _Henry!"_ he whines, pitched and desperate, and he feels more than sees the dark smirk on Jekyll's face. "More! More, please, Henry, _nnghhh_ — faster, faster, deeper, harder—!"

And he chokes on his words when Jekyll suddenly speeds, and then he's fully buried in Hyde in barely a second, and it's like he's already fucked all the breath out of Hyde because he can't _breathe._ He's leaking against his own stomach, and it's a miracle that he hasn't combusted yet because he's too hard, too on edge after being deprived for far, far too long.

"My sweet whore," Jekyll growls, directly into Hyde's ear, and it probably shouldn't feel so good but it does, and Hyde whines and throws his arms around Jekyll's neck. It's all he can do to stay conscious as Jekyll drives into him, pounds into him with near inhuman strength and speed. The sounds they make are filthy and obscene, and he knows that Jekyll will be ashamed of them but he can't ever bother to care. "I — _argh_ — I love you. I love you so much, no matter how much ruin you make of me and no matter _— ah_ _—_ no matterhow _mad_ you drive me. I love you, you, always, _Edward Hyde_ —"

Hyde shrieked at the mention of his full name. "A-again," he begs, as he convulses about on the couch and shakes with every single touch and thrust, "p-please, Henry — _ah! —_ s- say my name again!"

A devious grin blooms on Jekyll's face, and he leans closer, lowering his voice so that no one else hears. " _Henry,_ " he whispers, and Hyde whimpers, his cock twitching madly. It's a reminder. They are one. They always will be. Halves of the same heart, one in the same mind. Lovers. Best friends. _Soulmates_. And he's only to happy for it. "You are me," whispers Jekyll, and it's redundant, but it makes Hyde shudder all the same. "You _are_ Jekyll. I am _Hyde_. And no one, not now, not ever, will ever be able to truly separate us."

"Yes!" Hyde gasps, and he's edging ever closer to his climax and he's doing his best to hold on, to delay himself, so Henry can satisfy himself too, but it's difficult. He scratches Henry, on his back and thighs and sides and whines and moans and hisses as he's taken, over and over, and it's not so much his own pleasure that makes him heady and faint, but also the knowledge that this — that he — gives his soulmate pleasure, too. "Yes — _ah!_ —Henry! Never, never, I'll never leave you, never, not until the day we die—!"

"Not — not even the day we die," Jekyll interrupts, near folding Hyde in half, breathing heavily and angrily into his lover's ear. He's close, so very close, but he has a point to make, and he's disciplined enough that he doesn't have to try very hard to hold back. It is quite delicious, after all, to watch Hyde squirm and gasp below him, all gratification and pleasure delayed. "You're to never leave me, _Henry_. Not even when we die. Not even when we go to Hell. You'll stay with me. Always. You're to love me, always."

"Always, _Edward_ ," Hyde groans, and he's getting far too close, and he knows he won't be able to hold back for long. "Always, always, _always—_!"

"Come."

  
And Hyde shrieks, convulsing as if electrified, his cock pulsing against his stomach and spilling against them both. And his eyes roll back into his head, almost all white, glorious and even more exciting than the first time he'd ever gotten fucked, and he only barely registers Jekyll spilling into him and groaning because his entire world is _gone_.

The last thing he hears before he falls unconscious is Jekyll gently whispering, "I love you."

Or was he hearing himself?


End file.
